


frangere

by swaggietrash



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Reader has no defined gender, probably should warn that there will be heavy topics here, unrequited love............ OR IS IT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-12-26 17:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18287363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaggietrash/pseuds/swaggietrash
Summary: a stowaway is garbage usually thrown overboard. you've had experience with running and changing, but like any deer, you're eventually shot for your antlers and mounted on the wall.after praying to a prophet you don't believe in, you beg to forget the optics who'd torn you apart with a single glance. with howling, gasping breaths, you demanded for your skull to be cracked open just enough so your memories could leak out into the stars.you still see red whenever you close your eyes.





	1. lentitudo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cover image

 

pointless as it rains

the fire burns anyways

smoke shaped chains

are one way to paraphrase


	2. metus

if insecurity is a ~~weakness~~ ,

i am filled with **holes**.

.

.

.

Carefully, you push your thumbnail under your pointer fingernail, feeling a sensation not unlike when you’d poke at your ribs through your skin. Watching the skin turn white under the pressure, your pinkie twitched as your heavy eyelids slipped shut.

Red flashed across your closed eyelids, the grating shriek of your alarm scraping along your frontal lobe as you laid there in bed. It’s been going off for close to ten minutes now, and even if your alarm clock was less than an arm’s length away, you didn’t move to turn it off. Instead, you pressed your nail harder against the sensitive skin under your other nail, feeling an itching rise up inside of your teeth.

Internally, you bitterly joked about how emo you must seem. Spread out across your cot filled with blankets and fabrics from different planets far and wide, surely anyone else would be ecstatic to be in your position.

You were, at one point, you think. A constant giddy sort of anxiety had curled around your heart for months, blinding you to anything bad that could possibly ever happen. Who wouldn’t be delighted, after all? You were a stowaway on an alien ship, blasting through space at speeds you couldn’t comprehend to a fantastical, mythical end.

The itching in your molars grew too strong to ignore, and you finally stopped trying to pry your nail from your flesh, simply letting your hand fall limp in front of your face. The alarm was still blaring, and you closed your tired eyes, feeling something pang in your chest. You didn’t care enough to find out what it was, simply letting the sensation wash over you as you wallowed further in your misery.

Everyone on the ship had known about you the second you were on board. Sure, you had thought of yourself as slick, hitching a ride on a ship filled with metal titans; you were a stray organic in a vast universe, having been plucked from your original planet nearly a year ago. Human trafficking, it turns out, was just as popular in outer space as it was on Earth. That had been a depressing, yet not very surprising discovery. You were luckily sold to a kind farmer on a desert-like planet. They were strict, but kind, treating you more like a prized pet than a slave. Often, they delighted in teaching you new ‘tricks.’ It wasn’t the worse life to lead, of course, but you had family and friends to return to on Earth.

It had been a fluke that the giant metal strangers had visited your planet. It had only taken a split second in the lapse of your buyer’s concentration for you to escape, and you ran until you were safely on board the giant ship. Even now, the size of it astonishes you. The only thing you carried on your back was a knapsack and your ragged clothing. Hiding away in a storage room on the ship, you made your home in one of the cracks between a metal storage container and the wall.

Of course, it had failed to even cross your mind that of course a technologically advanced robotic alien species would of course set up security cameras, and would of course have heat seeking sensors in almost every room.

When you were just finished setting up a temporary sort of nest, a bright and happy sun greeted you from above. You had shrieked and tossed a can of your daily rations you’d gotten from the farmer at the sun’s face, making the metallic being pout and whine. You’d been ready to run at any second, but after a while, you were coaxed out into the open to be greeted by a select few robotic beings. The sun, whose name you later learned was Rodimus, eagerly introduced his colleagues. Drift. Ultra Magnus. Ratchet. Red Alert. Red Alert kept hissing about how you were clearly some sort of threat or spy, looking very on edge – almost as paranoid as you were, in retrospect.

After you’d been reassured several times that you weren’t in trouble for being a stowaway, you had managed to relax enough to explain to them your situation.

Their original goal was to bring you to an outpost that could transport you back to Earth. Apparently, an outpost like that existed right along the path they were taking, and it wouldn’t be more than two months before they reached said point. As your terror drained out of you, giddiness and excitement took it’s place; by the end of the night, you were an official member of the Lost Light crew. You might have been under constant surveillance and not trusted to wander outside of your designated room, but this was officially the coolest thing that’s ever happened to you.

To say that shit hit the fan would be too kind of an observation.

Drift was exiled. This was one that hit you particularly hard, as Drift had been one of the original mechs you liked the best. His calm nature helped you feel at ease, and he didn’t thoughtlessly grab you whenever he wanted your attention or needed to move you. You grieved his absence for weeks, even though with everything else going on, you were hardly able to hold yourself together.

You didn’t like to reflect on those times. The current stress in your life was more than enough for you. Your head was pounding in time to your alarm shrieking, and you finally managed to find the strength to reach over and turn off the grating sound. Instead, you laid there in the darkness, staring unseeingly at the wall across from you.

You felt utterly and completely pathetic, but you didn’t care enough to change it. Maybe you were as pathetic as you felt you were.

Of course, you knew about ~~Megatron~~ before ever boarding the Lost Light. The evil warlord had terrorized your planet and had wrecked parts of your planet without remorse or care. He’d killed millions without a care in the world, and you’d never put a thought to him besides ‘bad.’

That changed, when you were the sole organic in a sea of metal titans staring down a gunmetal grey form with piercing red optics. Their burning depths felt as if they charred your insides, and for weeks you were terrified of the warlord turned co-captain. Whenever he entered the room, you ducked out or hid until he left. Whenever you heard his voice, you’d cover your ears or slip the headset Brainstorm had made for you on, so you could tune into the meaningless babble on the Lost Light’s transmission frequencies. The white noise helped you relax; the headset was supposed to exist as a sort of failsafe in case of, say, lose sparkeaters being on the ship and you’re alone. You could call for help at any time.

But, at some point, Cybertronian became your replacement for music. Eventually, it became your escape from your fears.

Your datapad lit up beside you, a notification cheerily informing you that you’re missing sitcom night at Swerve’s. Staring at the cheery little pop up, you dismiss it after a couple seconds and turn the screen off again, sinking further into your bed. You inhale, and you find yourself feeling disappointed.

The first time you spoke to ~~Megatron~~ , it was completely by accident. You’d been walking through a hallway, your eyes focused intently on the datapad in your hands as you walked. By the grace of god, Brainstorm and Perceptor had managed to download a datapack of human literature for you. Even if some of it was the driest shit you’ve ever read in your damn life, you took to it like a dying man to water. Any sort of distraction was helpful when it came to the music-less hell you’ve lived in for over a year. Trashy romance writers became your Socrates.

So wrapped up in your current vampire novel were you that you didn’t notice the giant grey leg until you completely wiped out on it. Slamming your knee into the hard surface, you had exclaimed in surprise as your datapad went flying and you fell on something hard. After a couple moments of feeling dazed, you realized abruptly that you were laying on someone’s foot, and without even looking up to see who it was, you jump up and scramble backwards to apologize.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry, I literally wasn’t looking at where I was going at all—” When your eyes finally directed upwards, your heart had stopped inside of your chest. Piercing red optics stared down at you, and the expression on ~~Megatron~~ ’s face was stoic and calm. Just as you saw him open his mouth to speak, you turn around and make a break for it, not hearing whatever it was that he said in response.

You’d been terrified to go outside of your room for days, and it was only after relentless begging and pleading from Tailgate that you came out again. You, of course, refused to leave his servos for the rest of the day, but the white minibot was hardly complaining. He toted you around like a trophy to behold, which was one of your most treasured memories.

Something twisted abruptly in your gut, and you sat up in your bed, your hand over your mouth as you desperately fought back vomit. Bile burned in your throat, leaving a bitter taste at the back of your mouth as your throat worked desperately around a swallow.

You don’t want to remember anymore.


	3. obcursus

glass shatters

more readily than bone

you left your hammer here

.

.

.

The cold metal floor under your feet was a harsh shock to your system, but you hardly even felt the discomfort as your eyes stare into the endless silver of your reflection. The polished surface was perfectly reflective, and you’ve long since grown used to the cracks and breaks in the surface that you hardly even see them anymore. However, two shatters catch your attention, and you feel your knuckles throb in response as you stare emptily at them

You’ve just finished showering, and the steam still billows up around you as you stare at your body. Water runs down your chest in warm rivets, and your skin is quickly cooling in the room temperature air. However, despite the discomfort, you don’t move; transfixed by your reflection and the holes in your physique.

Unbidden and unwanted, memories flood your mind’s eye as your heart yearns to explode, your eyes slowly filling with tears. You already know your heart’s been pinned to the wall behind you, and as you’re lost in your own reflection, you swear you can hear it beating.

After you’d fled from ~~Megatron~~ after tripping over his foot, you had panic attacks whenever walking down that hallway, so you avoided that hallway like the devil himself. In your eyes, meeting ~~Megatron~~ was like meeting a terrorist from your world; you’ve heard about all the destruction they’ve caused, you know of the carnage, and you’ve seen bits and pieces on the news. Never in your life did you ever think you’d meet ~~Megatron~~ , though – much less one who’s plead innocent to his crimes and was attempting to make amends.

The high command of the ship did their best to hide the truth from you, you think. At first, Rodimus had fibbed and said that they were holding ~~Megatron~~ captive, but that clearly wasn’t true when you witnessed ~~Megatron~~ give orders out alongside Rodimus. Then, after your intense questioning, you were able to pester the mech into spilling the truth. Admittedly, he had a soft spot for you that you were more than aware of, but you like to think that you were able to coerce the information out of him through the sheer power of your will and determination.

~~Megatron~~ was their new co-captain.

A lot had happened while the crew was grounded on Cybertron during ~~Megatron~~ ’s trial. For some reason, the mechs mostly hid you away; they claimed it was for your safety, but you had a sinking suspicion that they wanted to hide you from any potential dangers.

While on Cybertron, most of your days had been spend hiding in your favorite mechs’ hands and being cooped up in various habsuites and storage rooms. Many mechs demanded your attention and you hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now that you’re reflecting on it, you can see the subtle way they’d been distracting you from asking questions.

Returning to a ship manned by a well-known _criminal_ was horrifying in ways you couldn’t describe, but at the same time, you weren’t that afraid. Being afraid of ~~Megatron~~ was like being afraid of an idea – Sure, this was the mech who did incomprehensible crimes against your species and the entire galaxy, but you don’t have any other reasons to hate the mech.

You were never personally afflicted by his crimes, but the fear and anger in your robotic friends gave your paranoia enough reason to flare up inside of your chest like an unwelcome heart attack.

It didn’t help that your friends only perpetuated your fears with horrific stories and warnings. Swerve was particularly vocal, at first, about the entire ~~Megatron~~ -being-co-captain shtick. You often found yourself in Swerve’s, as he was one of the friendliest mechs towards you; his love for everything human and Earth had proved to permanently put you in his favor. To you, he was the safest.

Once again, that’s was probably your initial paranoia speaking.

Blinking a couple times, you zoom back to the present; your hand was shaking as it held your toothbrush. You’re still dripping water onto the floor, and you haven’t even picked up your towel; despite this, you’d mechanically picked up your toothbrush and stuck it into your mouth without much preamble. You hadn’t even wet the bristles, nor put toothpaste on it.

Pulling the plastic out of your mouth, you put it back down on the clean sink and stare at your reflection again. Your heart thumps heavily, bleeding onto the floor as you finally notice that your reflection was blurry.

Wiping your cheeks, you wonder when the floor had become so red – blood was lapping at your ankles, filling up the room slowly from your bleeding heart.

While you’d been avoiding ~~Megatron~~ after officially running into him, you’d spent time researching him. Reading his autobiography, _Towards Peace_ , was your first step towards this. Luckily, after some casual persuasion, you’d challenged Brainstorm by saying he couldn’t make a Cybertronian-English translation program.

Of course, the self-proclaimed genius couldn’t accept that as an answer, and he’d whipped one up before the end of the ‘day cycle’ you kept. From there, you’d used it to translate various Cybertronian writings; Rung’s mouth had quirked when you asked for access to his collection of various literatures, but he hadn’t protested as you sat with him and read in his office.

Rung was someone else you enjoyed. To be with him was uncomplicated and peaceful; something that was painfully rare when it came to the hectic lifestyle of the _Lost Light_. He didn’t question how you could read Cybertronian literature, nor did he question why you chose the specific articles and books you did. He simply worked on his model arks or read in silence along with you.

Towards Piece was a taste into ~~Megatron~~ ’s psyche that left you dying for more. You hunted down every piece of literature related to ~~Megatron~~ – within reason, of course – and you’d managed to gather up quite the repertoire.

When you’d been on Earth, one of your original aspirations was to go into criminal psychology. As your fear of ~~Megatron~~ translated into something more complicated and unspoken, you found yourself falling deeper into the hole of _why_ and _how_.

In the recorded trial of ~~Megatron~~ ’s conviction, Starscream had claimed that ~~Megatron~~ was someone who should be pitied. That he was an average person of average intellect who had gone in over their head. After reading through his writings and watching ~~Megatron~~ interact with various crew members in secret for two weeks, you’d come to the conclusion that Starscream’s words were a load of hogwash.

Starscream was right in one aspect, however. Somehow, over the course of you watching the passive once-tyrant and reading up on him, you’d found something pitiful in him.

Not for his previous actions; never that. You were of the firm belief that someone, unless they were being manipulated beyond belief or shadowplay was involved, should be held fully accountable for their actions. It wouldn’t be just to simply let ~~Megatron~~ go unpunished, but the defeated and lost way that he held himself…

It tugged on your heartstrings, and it had caused your blood to curdle with disgust at the time. Your chest would burn and ache whenever you’d catch sight of ~~Megatron~~ sitting or walking alone, and you blamed it on your own inherent loneliness.

Your overwhelming sense of empathy often caused you trouble, and you’d would often make jokes about being an empath. However, under every joke laid the slightest string of truth; sometimes, you’d put yourself so fully into someone else’s shoes that you’d forget yourself in the process.

When your lost datapad containing your trashy vampire novel appeared in front of your door three weeks after running into ~~Megatron~~ , you were hopelessly obsessed with what his motivations were. You’re sure half the ship was dying to know as well, but you assumed for more malicious reasons. The former Decepticon wasn’t well liked, and that’s putting it lightly. Sure, the crew listened to him, but you’ve seen the graffiti. You’ve heard the comments, seen mechs physically push ~~Megatron~~ around.

And you’ve seen how ~~Megatron~~ simply allows it half the time, his expression unreadable and his voice calm.

Perhaps that’s why you pitied him because, for lack of a better term, half the crew bullied him. It feels ridiculous to think such a thing, even in your own head, but you’re not sure how else to put it. Heckled? Harassed? Whatever the word was, it all boiled down to the same thing; the crew was taking out their suppressed aggravation and hopelessness on the one who they believed caused it all.

You couldn’t deny that they had a right to be angry, but seeing someone who simply defended himself when attacked… **That** didn’t feel right.

That’s what lit the fire in your chest; the burning need to know _why_. Perhaps you were projecting when it all came down to it, but you weren’t perfect. You understood loneliness and self-isolation, and you wanted to know what was going through ~~Megatron~~ ’s head.

Pity transformed into a burning want to understand, and from there, you lost control.

The first step was analyzing why ~~Megatron~~ had decided to give you back your datapad. It was a useless gesture; you weren’t invested in the story, and you had several others that had far more interesting stories on them. You’re surprised ~~Megatron~~ picked up the datapad in the first place; it was fitted for your small physique, and with how overwhelmingly large the mech was, you would have thought that he would have broken it.

It returned to you in absolute pristine condition, and after running a few diagnostics on it, you knew for sure that nothing had changed. ~~You were no Red Alert, but sometimes, _sometimes_ you came far too close.~~ So, with nothing tampered with and not even a glance of acknowledgement from the mech when you were in the same room, you were left with nothing but dust in regards of constructing a sound theory.

At first, you wondered if it was because of his love for literature, but you quickly tossed that theory away. It was an Earth novel; one that had millions of copies back on Earth. You could easily download the same novel onto a different datapad. Using that reasoning, you had barred that conclusion from being possible, and you were forced to move onto the next theory.

You knew of ~~Megatron~~ ’s disgust for organic species. Hell, you’ve read about it; over a billion lives had been ended either directly or indirectly because of ~~Megatron~~ ’s actions. You know he very likely still despises organics, but does so more quietly, now. So, once again, why would he return the datapad to you? An act of pity seemed unlikely, as ~~Megatron~~ did not seem the type to pity others.

Others caught you staring at ~~Megatron~~ , and kinder mechs like Tailgate only comforted you; everyone was curious and kind of afraid, he said, his visor shining brightly as he pat your head gently. You know that Tailgate only means the best, of course, and speaking to him gives you a sense of warmth and happiness that reminded you of home, but at the same time you couldn’t help but feel indignant.

Despite how everyone had accepted you, and how thankful you were to be part of a family out in the middle of the great beyond, you were still irrevocably human. Aliens could take everything they wanted from you; your home, your clothes, your identity, your dignity. The one thing they could never take from you, however, was your humanity. You suppose that therein lays your issue; your coffin was already built, and you simply had to come to terms with lying in it.

Humans have the innate ability to never leave something alone. Puzzle seeking creatures that they are, humans will obsess over a puzzle until they feel it is solved. That’s why murder mystery stories are such a fad back home; everyone can’t wait to find out who the killer is and how they did it all. You, yourself, have been locked in a series of patterns from the day you were born.

Staring at your bleeding heart, you only realize this now, standing in your bathroom utterly alone. It hits you with a sniper’s pinpoint accuracy, and you can’t find it in yourself to even feel surprised.

~~Megatron~~ had been your escapism, in a sense.

He was a problem for you to solve, and goddamn it were you determined to solve the fuck out of it. You wouldn’t say that you stalked ~~Megatron~~ , as it made you sound far too creepy, and you’re perfectly aware that he knew of his organic watcher.

You couldn’t help it, and perhaps that’s why you were pitiful.

Whenever ~~Megatron~~ was in the room, you’d watch him; your running had somehow transformed into a sense of morbid fascination. What made a sociopath tick, anyways? Could ~~Megatron~~ even be diagnosed as being a sociopath to begin with? Watching him interact made you think otherwise; his mannerisms were tightly controlled, but he didn’t seem to be completely lacking of emotion. His and Rodimus’s bickering proved as much to you that ~~Megatron~~ experienced some form of emotion.

What caused the mech to mass homicide as a solution, then? He ran a very tight ship, scheduled and organized in ways Rodimus had only hoped to once control the crew. Sure, most everyone adored their captain, you included, but he didn’t exactly have the most authoritative presence. Ultra Magnus and Drift had stood in where Rodimus had failed, and now ~~Megatron~~ helped stand in for those shortcomings.

You assumed that ~~Megatron~~ got his experience with control from his own army, but as someone who once was a simple miner, you wonder where that initiative had come from. Sure, Starscream had claimed that ~~Megatron~~ was an average mech who was simply in the right place at the right time, but that didn’t sit well in your mind. With everything you’ve learned, observed, and read so far, that assumption just didn’t fit in well.

Perhaps it was convincing to those who had lived through these tragedies ~~Megatron~~ put them through, but to an outsider, it didn’t make sense. Even terrorists like Hitler had motives and reasons that could be written down and understood, but no one could seem to put a pin on it besides “world domination.”

Your thirst for answers and your utter need to understand was what compelled you to one day sit at ~~Megatron~~ ’s side in Swerve’s. You’re pretty sure poor Swerve, your current babysitter, almost had a spark attack as he desperately attempted to gesture with his hands for you to come back to the counter. You’d hopped up, climbed down the little ladder the crew had assembled for you, and trotted over to climb up onto the table with ~~Megatron~~ , all while ignoring the steady stares that were boring into your back.

“Is this seat taken?” Your voice was soft, and not exactly unkind, but not entirely friendly, either. It was more of a neutral tone, and as you stared up at ~~Megatron~~ , you were suddenly hit with the realization that he felt _lost._ Staring into his expression, your theory only became more solid as time went by as he continued to merely stare down at you. Despite the silence between the two of you lasting a matter of seconds, not longer than a couple of breaths, it was _everything_ to you.

The hesitation told you more than words ever could.

“No.” It was an easy answer, a simple one, and you found yourself slightly disappointed by the lack of fanfare. With a small nod to show you understood, you settled down on the tabletop and booted up your datapad; you didn’t want to come over to just stare at ~~Megatron~~ , no. You’d be looking at him while looking like you’re reading.

Once again, you’re not the most subtle person, so you’re sure the both of you knew that you were looking at him more than you were reading. To ~~Megatron~~ ’s credit, he didn’t seem too unnerved, merely only staring down at his own datapad as he typed steadily. Sitting with ~~Megatron~~ at first had been awkward, and you didn’t say anything else for the duration of two more hours.

~~Megatron~~ was the first to leave, staring down at you as if unsure if he was supposed to say anything or leave in silence. You don’t think it was out of any care of your feelings; you’re sure you’ve perplexed him by sitting with him, despite several of your regular favorites having come into the bar by then. To save the both of you from an awkward stare down, you smiled up at ~~Megatron~~ and gave him a little wave.

He didn’t wave back, but he looked visibly more perplexed as he left the bar. You were accousted by several of your favorites, then; Tailgate whined that you hadn’t even said hi to him when he entered the bar, while Swerve swore up and down to you that he was sure you would have been a pile of dust in seconds, ~~Megatron~~ the Autobot be damned.

After that, sitting with ~~Megatron~~ become something of a habit, and your friends stopped freaking out about it as much. Exposure therapy; seeing something repeatedly over a course of time helped acclimate people towards something they might finding shocking or frightening.

For the first five times sitting at ~~Megatron~~ ’s side, you did nothing but read and watch him while he wrote on his datapad. You’d repeat the customary question on if that seat was taken, ~~Megatron~~ would say that it’s not, and the both of you would sit in quiet for several hours until one of you would leave. Typically, it was ~~Megatron~~ who left first, but there was one time you were so exhausted that you fell asleep sitting up. Tailgate and Cyclonus apparently took you back to your habsuite.

You don’t know what inspired you on that lucky sixth visit, but you actually broke the silence between you and ~~Megatron~~. You must have grown chest hair that day to commiserate the occasion. To this day, you remember the conversation vividly.

“What are you writing?” Had tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop it, and you saw ~~Megatron~~ ’s fingers halt on the keyboard as his attention turned to you. The unblinking stare had flustered you, and before the mech could even respond, more words had tumbled their way out of your mouth, your heart pounding in your chest as you.

“You, uh, don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m just curious. You’re always writing, and, uhm…” Trailing off into mutters, you cursed your inherent social awkwardness. Back then, you’d passed your nervousness off simply being overwhelmed by talking to someone new. Even if you’ve been studying ~~Megatron~~ for over a month at that point, close to two, even, you hadn’t spoken face-to-face with him for an extended period of time.

~~Megatron~~ looked bemused staring down at you, and he slowly set his datapad down so that you could see it. Cybertronian symbols decorated the screen, and you were dismayed to realize that there wouldn’t be a handy dandy translate key on _his_ datapad.

“Ultra Magnus and I exchange weekly reports.” The first sentence, besides the word ‘no’, that ~~Megatron~~ ever spoke to you. You remember feeling light headed, your hands shaking as you fought back a grin. Thinking back on it, you probably looked like a crackhead one tweak away from losing it, but you hadn’t given a shit at the time.

“Oh, huh. Rodimus never talked about doing any reports or anything before.” Tongue darting out to lick your lips, you had smiled at ~~Megatron~~ awkwardly, your chest aching with an adrenaline endusing mixture of flight and fight. “Guess he forked that responsibility onto you, huh?”

~~Megatron~~ had ex-vented, and you hadn’t known then if it was an amused sound or an annoyed one. You were eagerly soaking in his body language; from how he didn’t look nearly as lost or confused by you now that the both of you have spent time together. Of course, you knew that he probably had to be wary, but you rationalized that you were the least of his worries; he had a lot on his plate to think and worry about besides one small organic.

Perhaps, that’s why you felt so confident that you were going to crack the code and solve the mystery of who ~~Megatron~~ really was. Of who he had been, and who he planned to be in the future, and what sort of awkward in-the-middle state he was then.

“The work ethic on this ship is in dire need of adjustment. Hardly anything gets done, unless one does it himself.” To you, ~~Megatron~~ sounded exasperated, but not aggressive; you don’t have a doubt in your mind that ~~Megatron~~ and Rodimus must butt heads often on this subject.

“Trying to get Sun to work is like tryin’ to get mountains to grow legs and do a jig. Just ain’t happenin’, y’know?” You know that there’s another Sunny on _Lost Light_ , but your personal nickname for Rodimus was Sun because of your first meeting with him. Fiddling with your datapad, you popped the edge of the cover on and off of the back with your fingernail as you chewed on your bottom lip. Despite this feeling like a once in a life time possibility, you were completely out of ideas for conversation.

Loneliness was a terribly affliction, and you’re confident of your diagnosis for ~~Megatron~~. Maybe he doesn’t want it from a socially awkward human with too many thoughts and too few words, but, well, that’s the best he’s going to get on this ship. He doesn’t have any friends, and no one speaks to him if they aren’t required to or heckling him.

You know Whirl’s heckled ~~Megatron~~ a few times, but they haven’t gotten into a physical fight yet. It’s bound to happen eventually, you’re sure; Whirl’s reckless enough to do something stupid, like attack ~~Megatron~~ in an effort to get a reaction beyond his passive demeanor now.

“I suppose that is one way to put it.” ~~Megatron~~ ’s voice had snapped you back into the moment, and you’d laughed – you remember that for certain. You can’t remember anymore if you two had spoken further, or if you’d lapsed back into silence; all you know is that you’d fallen asleep after several more hours, and when you woke up in your habsuite, it wasn’t to a message from Tailgate about how he brought you back.

Shaking hands reach for the mirror above your sink, and you pull on it to reveal your medicine cabinet as tears blur your vision. Scrambling for a certain pill bottle, you don’t bother looking at the label as you down three of them dry. Shoving the bottle back onto the shelf, you push the mirror until you hear it click back into place.

With each inhale, you remember more. Memories fall into your mind’s eye unwanted and painful, their barbs digging into your soul and sinking their poison into your flesh without remorse. Trapped inside of your own head, you miserably remember the endless conversations that took place between you and ~~Megatron~~ after that first initial conversation.

You found out that ~~Megatron~~ was genuinely funny in a deadpan, dry kind of way. After broaching the topic of mnemosurgery, you found out his disgust for the practice in general. You taught him about Earth culture, he helped you understand things that didn’t translate from your Cybertronian texts, he first smiled at you after four months, he started waiting for you in Swerve’s, you let him hold you more than anyone else, his voice became your rock, you started taking walks together by month five, he laughed for the first time with you when you stubbed your toe, you, he, you, you

.

Staring down at the sink, you placed a hand over your mouth as you stared down at the flower petals you just hacked up. Primrose and anemone blossoms greeted your eyes, and as you stared at your reflection, you realized that the pink carnations over your heart had grown denser and sprouted more seedlings. Their stems grew directly out of your skin, and the petals in the sink looked sickly and withered.

Ignoring the blood dripping down your knuckles, the shattered glass of your mirror casts forgotten echoes as you turned away from your reflection. A trail of petals follows you as you stumbled back into your room.

Your first flower had been a daisy. It was the day Megatron first smiled at you – a real smile. It sprouted in the safety of the crook of your elbow. Fingers caressing the silky smooth surface of the small field of daisies growing on your forearm, you lay yourself back into your self-made coffin and close your eyes.

Despite your alarm clock being off, you can see red staring back at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry to drop the hanahaki disease on yall but i wasn't sure if it was going to make the final cut and i ended up falling in love with the idea


	4. praetermissio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> humanity is a virus, and you're no exception.

for you are my sun,

and i am foolish for ever attempting to put you out.

.

.

.

When you awake, you realize that you failed to dress yourself at all after your shower. You’re shivering, a numbness clinging to your skin as you slowly sit up on your bed. In your sorrow, you even forgot to pull a blanket over yourself; you’d been exposed to the painful blast of your fan and the freezing temperatures for hours, now, and you’re just beginning to realize its effects.

You can’t feel a thing.

Slowly, as the pressure of the world begins to crack your brittle bones, you slide your legs off your bed and press your feet onto the floor. Your skin feels stretched and worn, like someone’s cleaned out your insides and left nothing behind. Wiggling each of your toes in a half-hearted effort to coax feeling back into your extremities, you stop caring half way through and continue to stare down at your legs and feet.

95% of your body has been covered by flowers and seedlings. Sure, your skin was still visible in some places, but the vines crept under the skin across your entire body; the surgery to remove them would have cost thousands, but there’s charities for this kind of stuff.

Surprisingly enough, Ultra Magnus had been the one to spot the flowers peeking out from under your clothing. Back then, daisies were the only flowers found on the surface of your skin; close to fifteen blossoms had overtaken your forearm by then, and one grew on the back of your hand. You remember counting each one as they sprouted from your skin, but you don’t recall when you lost count.

He’d been staring at your skin in confusion as you sat with Rodimus, listening to his plans for the _Lost Light_ ’s next stop. After several seconds, you noticed the uncomfortable stare, and you turned your gaze to the large mech. When you noticed that his gaze was directly on your arm, you glanced down as well, only for horror to fill you when you had realized that you’d rolled up your sleeves without noticing. All fifteen blossoms were out on display.

As you had gasped, both mechs snapped their attention towards you as you jerked your sleeve down. Rodimus, of course, was immediately interested and wanted to pry. Ultra Magnus was more reserved, but you could tell he was also intrigued.

“What kind of cool, totally unique organic stuff are you hiding from us now, huh?” Rodimus had prodded, using a finger to gently poke at your sides as you wack at the metal appendage with your hand playfully. He’d been upset that you hadn’t told him all of your “cool human tricks” yet. The last ‘stunt’ was your hair; you’d cut it short with a pair of loaned scissors from Brainstorm one night, and Rodimus had been awestruck by the shortened strands.

“I was unaware that homo sapiens could grow flora from their epidermis.” Magnus quipped, and you had offered them an awkward smile when Rodimus proceeded to pester you even more. Your nails had been digging into your palm as Rodimus spoke, and it was only at his suddenly worried tone that you noticed you were bleeding.

That someone else noticed your flowers, that two other people had seen them and hadn’t known what they were…

It was dangerous. You had a power over them that you were more than sure they were entirely unaware of, and you didn’t know what to do. As they both stared at you, it felt like an eternity passed while you had internally struggled to find some sort of answer for their questions that wouldn’t spell out what was really happening.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t trusted them – Perhaps, not as much as you did currently – but the fact remained that you didn’t feel comfortable exposing every single one of your weaknesses just yet. Your self-preservation instincts told you to keep some things close to your chest, and the glaring weakness found close to your heart was one thing you didn’t want to expose. The nerve was still raw and tender.

Another reason was likely because you were in complete denial over what was happening.

“Don’tcha know?” Your voice had been soft, yet it broke through the silence hovering between the three of you like a sledgehammer. The shattered remains of the silence laid at your feet, slicing through your skin and causing your anxiety to bleed as you rushed onwards with your words, your mouth working around words that hesitated before stumbling past your lips. “This—it’s, uh, a common illness in humans. It’s temporary, though, so don’t worry. It’s totally normal.”

Staring into their optics, you had been so afraid of them calling you out on your bullshit. However, after a long moment of contemplation, Rodimus, your poor sun, easily accepted your slippery excuse of a lie.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner? You’re your own walking Earth! Do you have any other organic life growing out of you? Like a shark?” Startled out of your stoic, nervous composure, you remember laughing so hard you snorted. Snorting had caused you to cough, however, but you hid the handful of petals from both mechs as you shook your head.

“Sharks? Psh, nah. I don’t think sharks, besides Riptide, would pass regulation.” Glancing at Ultra Magnus from the corner of your eye, your lips twitched up into a smile as he clearly puffed up, immediately pondering the logistics of having a shark on board.

From there, you managed to steer the conversation away from the daisies on your arm; Rodimus had insisted that you showed them again, but besides that, you had assumed you were scotch free.

Flowers growing out of one’s skin was a very big deal on Earth; it wasn’t as uncommon as one might think, as tragic as it might be. It was one of humanity’s many flaws, and while some people had genetically mutated out of having the disease by now, many people were still afflicted. You were one of them; your father had died from the disease after your parents had split when you were young.

You weren’t under any disillusions, though; many mechs watched you, you knew, as egotistical as that made you sound. It was the difference between your species, you thought; you were a novelty to most aliens, and Cybertronians were no different from anyone else, despite their metal plating. Something as simple as you sneezing was something worth Rewind recording for several mechs to coo over later, and while you’re disgruntled with having become the _Lost Light_ ’s resident pet, it wasn’t the worst thing to have ever happened to you.

It diminished how seriously some mechs took you, of course, but you tended to stay away from mechs who scooped you up to pet down your back and coo at you like you’re brain dead. It wasn’t that you were against physical affection, you had explained to Rung once, but rather you were picky. How did you know that the next mech that grabbed you wouldn’t snap your neck by accident? Or squeezed just slightly too hard, and boom, all of your bones would liquify and you’d be nothing more than an organic stain dripping through said mech’s joints.

So, with all that having been in mind, you made an executive decision to hide your flowers without thinking twice on it. Oh, you knew that it would be found out eventually, but you hoped to postpone that inevitability.

An uncharacteristic move from you, considering your affinity for honesty, but you hadn’t been able to handle the idea of ~~Megatron~~ finding out about the vines squeezing around your heart.

In order to disprove suspicion, even as the flowers slowly began to sap your strength, you had done your best to keep up your normal schedule. Your favorites had gotten used to your schedule by then, so you began to weave a cat’s cradle of half-truths and white lies.

Oh, those petals you hacked up when someone mentioned ~~Megatron~~? An elaborate prank, ha, you should have seen your face!

The bouts of dizziness and spells of nausea you went through? Anxiety and homesickness, obviously. Humans weren’t built for interstellar travel, and even though you’d survived this long, it was just homesickness settling in.

Less inquisitive mechs took those answers at face value, of course, and you did your best to hide any and all the signs from ~~Megatron~~ , himself.

Despite your aliments, you still had an enigma to figure out, after all. ~~Megatron~~ was your crowning jewel, and you were the type to never leave something alone once you became obsessed.

Each conversation with him brought on more insight, each passing glance made you realize something else. It was inevitable that each day passing by only made your feelings grow stronger, your chest aching as you trailed in his shadow.

Six months passed after his trial with you in his shadows, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You were unremarkable; a victim that managed to get lucky enough to have a rescue. You didn’t expect greatness, affection, recognition, or anything else these mechs could be seeking; you only ended up on the quest for Cyberutopia by sheer accident.

The disconnect would make most people abandon the ship from lack of connection. Why would you risk your life for a bunch of metallic beings who had terrorized your planet? Why bother with helping a load of rejects reach a place that likely wasn’t even real?

Standing up from your bed, you stare down at your body for several long moments. After having a little moment with yourself, you trudge your way over to your dresser to pull out pajamas and underwear. You manage to pull on your underwear before you’re sinking to the floor, your trembling limbs too weak to support you.

Your reason was selfish, incredibly so, and you hated yourself a bit more everyday for it. If you could go back in time, force your past self to leave it all behind, you know that it would have been easier on everyone. While those six months had been mainly peaceful after ~~Megatron~~ ’s trial, it hadn’t lasted. Despite being fully aware of this, despite having flowers sprouting up to cover your arm and creep onto your chest, you didn’t once stop to think of someone besides yourself.

Loneliness was your main motivator, as well as a sense of being indebted. Rodimus, your beautiful sun, didn’t have to decide to save your sorry ass. None of them did, nor did any of them have to take care of you, be nice to you, and, damn it all, none of them were required to set your heart aflame with an intense desire to care and nurture.

Every single one of them, even Ultra Magnus, made you want to pull them close and protect them. To leave the ship meant that you would leave them behind, and your subconscious whispered that you would never know their fates. You were a nobody, and you were positive that no one would have even tried to contact you to let you know if your (dare you say it) _friends_ were in trouble.

You couldn’t handle that. The unknowing, the absolution that you’d be utterly alone again. The last choice, the forgotten one; useless in every sense of the way.

At least, serving as the _Lost Light_ ’s impromptu pet, you had a purpose. You cheered mechs up, comforted them on bad days, and ran when you were called. It was your self-given task, but one you had been – still were – utterly dedicated to.

Many of the events that happened on the ship were hazy to you by now, with many details and events having been lost to your natural forgetfulness, but there were certain points that you ingrained into your memory.

 ~~Megatron~~ being attacked by one of your favorites was something that would never leave your mind’s eye.

You’re more than sure Whirl hadn’t noticed that you were there; you’d been walking besides ~~Megatron~~ for once, and the two of you hadn’t exactly been talking; you both had planned to return to his habsuite after the session with Rung to talk about something. It was meaningless enough that you couldn’t recall the specifics, but you’re sure it was to discuss a book the both of you had been reading; you’d introduced him to the world of human literature, and he gave you Cybertronian text recommendations. Equivalent exchange and all that.

All you know was that you can’t describe the dark feeling that had filled your chest at seeing ~~Megatron~~ ’s door vandalized. It shook you to your core that people could be so cruel, but it was around then that you remembered that ~~Megatron~~ , himself, was half of those things scrawled up on the door. A murderer by choice, a potential psychopath… You remember your stomach rolling, and the handful of petals you coughed up into your hand was promptly ignored by both of the bots above you.

Whirl had shot at ~~Megatron~~ first, which wasn’t a surprise. The helicopter bot was reckless, and the image of an arrow sticking out of ~~Megatron~~ ’s fist was imprinted on the backs of your eyelids for days afterwards. Their words were meaningless jibberish to you while you were in your state of shock, but you remember how ~~Megatron~~ had casually shifted a leg to hide you from view.

Perhaps, it was to hide your eyes from seeing what would happen next, but you always liked to think that he was inadvertently protecting you. You’re pretty sure that he was just bracing himself by widening his stance, but thinking more highly of yourself, even if it’s false, helped boost your self-confidence.

Fake it until you make it has been your motto for years.

When you finally tuned back into what they were saying, you had managed to tear your gaze away from ~~Megatron~~ ’s oozing wound to bear witness as Whirl tackled ~~Megatron~~ through the wall. You, after standing there in complete shock for more than a minute, had scurried over to see what was happening – only for your line of vision to be completely cut off by the various boilers and machinery found in the furnace room. If you decided to hop down, too, you’d be killed, and it would take you an hour at least to jog around far enough to enter the room on your own.

You’ve never been exactly sure what had happened between Whirl and ~~Megatron~~ , but you know that nothing official was reported by either of them and the graffiti had disappeared from ~~Megatron~~ ’s habsuite door the next day. You had ventured to check it yourself, without ~~Megatron~~ , actually.

Walking through the corridors on your own was always an eerie experience, even as the ship hummed with life under your very feet. It felt like the ship never ended with how huge it was; you were lucky that, somehow, your habsuite was only a twenty-minute walk from ~~Megatron~~ ’s. Swerve’s was about a forty-minute walk away, but usually you had someone to accompany you on those walks. If you were especially lucky, it would be someone who wasn’t against touching your skin, and your journey would be sped up significantly by having someone carry you.

You didn’t have such a luxury that day, sadly. Being in outer space did wonders for your physique, surprisingly, so you weren’t hardly out of breath by the time you finally stumbled across ~~Megatron~~ ’s door.

Standing in front of his door made you feel incredibly small, you remember. Being with ~~Megatron~~ , you didn’t quite notice the size difference anymore, but it was always in the little things. Sure, you knew that he was five times your size and weighed more than a car, but you’re always too distracted by talking and ~~flirting~~ joking that you had stopped paying attention to just how colossal he was.

The doorway didn’t open, of course, and the surface was seemingly pristine once again. No sign of the slander existed on the polished metal, but your sharp eyes had picked out the faint scuffs and scratches on the metal’s surface; you can remember them distinctly, even now.

As you’d stood there, drowning in your thoughts, you had felt the hairs raise on the back of your neck and on your arms; it felt like eyes were boring into the back of your skull. You had initially written it off as your paranoia, as you were pretty sure that no one had followed you to ~~Megatron~~ ’s door, but as the feeling continued to intensify, you couldn’t help as your paranoia had grown strong enough to strangle you.

Whipping around suddenly as you pressed your back against the door for stability, your eyes had torn across the seemingly empty landscape of the hallway. Not a sound could be heard; everyone else was so far away that you couldn’t pick up on their sounds, so the sterile sounding hum of machinery around you was the only thing that you could pick up on.

No one besides your ghosts were lingering in your dust, but you still couldn’t peel the paranoia from your brain. Something told you that this was incredibly unbalanced, and it felt like a predator was lingering just out of sight.

You weren’t stupid, of course; you were aware of alien tech, like what Mirage had, that could allow mechs to become invisible to the naked eye. After using and upgrading this tech for thousands of years, you were confident that mechs had accounted for organic eyes and attention as well, instead of just sensors.

Besides, Ambulon had once told you just how similar homo sapiens were to cybertronians. It had come as a surprise to medical officials from both planets, but as Ambulon had once worked for the Decepticons, he was aware of all the… The best way to put it would be the _nitty gritty_ of it all.

This had allowed you to realize that a lot of internal tech for mechs often worked like humans; the processor acted as the brain, the spark could be a more spiritual version of a heart, fuel pump replacing the stomach, wires replacing veins, and so on. You remember being wrapped up in similarities and chasms unable to ever be bridged across as you had stared out at the white walls, white floor, black spot on the ceiling –

Black spot on the ceiling –

Eyes were staring directly at you, and you remember having stumbled back with an absolutely horrified gasp. Your eyes had felt like they were about to fall out of your skull when you realized what you were staring at; a cat-like mech was staring at you from the rafters, his gleaming red optics never once leaving your vulnerable frame.

How long had you been watched? Why was the stranger outside of ~~Megatron~~ ’s habsuite to begin with? So many questions had raced through your mind, and you had fumbled with your communications device, desperately searching for the little distress button on your headset.

The headset had been around your neck due to your relaxed state, and every inch of your being cursed your apparent ineptitude. Of course there would be danger lurking around the corner; you were never safe, even if it felt like it sometimes, because someone would always be out to get you, you were going to be hunted, eyes were always going to be staring at you, everyone knew, everyone knew, everyone knew, everyone—

In a flash, the feline mech had jumped down from the rafters and pinned you against the wall with a paw. You were about eye-level with the being, you had realized in your hysterical state, and you still remember the odd sense of relief that had come with it.

He had growled at you in strange clicks and whirrs, sounding a bit like a dial-up tone, and you realized abruptly that he was speaking Cybertronian. Your throat had felt dry, and while the physical force used against your body had jolted you out of your spiraling thoughts, a part of you was still stuck on loop.

It hadn’t helped with your reasoning skills, and you still have the scars from where the mech’s metallic claws had pressed against your sternum mercilessly. Red optics stared at you, and while you had always been a good judge of emotion and people reading, you found yourself at a loss when it came to this new face.

You had no idea what he was feeling, what he was even thinking, and that had been petrifying. Your fingers had frozen on the distress button, and in the moment, you felt like if you had moved even an inch that you would die.

The wall was smooth against your back, and you used the sensation to try and ground yourself back in reality.

“E—English, if, uhm, i-if you know it, please. I’m sorry, I don’t have my v-verbal translator yet. U-Ultra Magnus uploaded the d-databurst onto the main network after I came on board so e-everyone had a fair chance to speak with me, which was very kind of him, although I don’t really know why anyone would be so interested in talking to me, but I, uh, I would really a-appreciate it if you m-maybe looked and do—downloaded the packet, so that—”

“I am perfectly capable of speaking English, insect,” The feline had hissed, and your mouth had never snapped shut so fast in your life. Your teeth ached from how hard you clenched your jaw, and you remember nodding dumbly. Usually, you had a better grasp on your confidence, but everything felt wrong.

No one’s been this outwardly agonistic towards you yet, and while it wasn’t exactly a surprise, you hadn’t mentally prepared fully for this sort of outcome. You did your best to plan for everything, and while your best friend on Earth might have claimed that it was a shit sort of coping mechanism for your controlling tendencies, you found that it worked very well for your purposes.

Of course, all of your meticulous plans and orderly itineraries for every possible disaster hadn’t managed to include metal cat threatening you outside of ~~Megatron~~ ’s door. That was the one flaw in your planning system; when affronted with something outside of your outlines definitions of how the world works, you tended to freak out.

You had been so distracted with ways to get out of this situation and ways to possibly calm the mech down that you had missed the first half of what he had just said, so you tuned in desperately as soon as you consciously realized that he was speaking again.

“—no idea why he bothered with an organic like yourself, anyways. Why does everyone fawn over homo sapiens to begin with? Even Soundwave’s been taken with them recently.” Instead of talking to you, it seemed the mech was moreso talking a _t_ you. Distantly, you wonder who Soundwave was as you cleared your throat quietly, trying to calm your pitifully shaking limbs.

“I’m—I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’re upset by something I’ve done, I’m real sorry for doin’ it, and, uh…” Cold red optics bore into you, and your insides had leaked out from your mouth, filling the dead air between the mech and yourself as your ghosts chanted in your ears.

“Pathetic. Are all humans either meek or greedy?” His claws had dug deeper in your flesh, and blood rushed up to soak through your shirt slowly as pain radiated from your torso. You found that you didn’t have any way to respond to that, your insides still scrambling to catch up with what was happening.

“ ~~Megatron~~. The mech on this ship whose playing dress up with you Autobots.” Confused, you stared at the black armored mech, your heart thudding behind your flimsy ribs. “ _That’s_ who I’m talking about. He’s a hot topic on this ship, isn’t he?”

“…” Remaining silent, you shift slightly, glancing to the side in a search for an escape route. However, as you remained pinned against the wall, your outlook is becoming more and more bleak. It would be a beautiful sort of tragedy if you died against ~~Megatron~~ ’s habsuite door, you remember reflecting internally.

“… Who are you?” You had managed to finally say, your voice soft, but not a whisper. The mech looked – Well, you’re pretty sure he looked surprised, although you’re not sure why. Was this mech famous or something?

“The better question would be who are _you_ , and how did you manage to catch sight of me?” The mech had snarled in your face, and you found yourself feeling even more lost. For a second, you wondered if this was what ~~Megatron~~ felt like all the time, but you quickly tossed that idea to the side as soon as it came into your head. ~~Megatron~~ felt lost, sure, but he wasn’t cornered; no, he was a wolf that allowed himself to be shackled by sheep.

“I’m just a stowaway. No one special; not an Autobot, or even an official from Earth. I’m just here for the ride until I’m dropped off at an outpost that can take me back to Earth.” For some reason, you get the idea that this wasn’t the answer the mech wanted.

Slowly, he moved backwards, his claws sliding out of your flesh with a sharp twinge. You wince, and immediately reach up to tenderly feel at the wounds as you and the stranger size each other up.

“If you’re just a stowaway, why are you lingering outside of ~~Megatron~~ ’s door like unwanted rust?” The mech still has you cornered, and you don’t really see any reason why to not answer his questions; especially with how aggressive he’s been so far.

“I was checking to see if the threats had been washed off the door yet.” You hadn’t bothered to mention how the words had disturbed you, nor did you mention just how far out of the way this was when it came to your daily venture to Swerve’s.

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are to ~~Megatron~~ , or why you’re upset with me, but I’ll leave. I get it, really.” Slowly inching away, you kept your back to the wall as you never allowed your eyes to leave the feline mech’s features. Eye contact made you nervous, so you didn’t often make eye contact with people; a remnant, you assume, from your childhood spent fearing Harry Potter-esque mind readers. “I’ll just get out of your circuits, and we’ll both go on our merry way. I won’t tell anyone that this happened.”

However, once the thought of ~~Megatron~~ permeated your brain, the virus spread until your guts ached. For a fleeting moment, you wished for ~~Megatron~~ to walk out of his habsuite and look at you with red optics that were familiar and wanted, instead of the mockery of his eyes that this stranger held, but you knew better. ~~Megatron~~ was on shift on the bridge, but once you thought about seeing him, a rush of emotions so powerful they caused your ribs to burn and bubble and warp in your chest as heat—as heat—as heat—

Doubling over seconds after finishing speaking, you coughed and hacked abruptly as petals spewed across the floor. Rose petals, that time, spilled from your cramped and aching form. The loud, abrasive sounds of your retching had filled the hallway, and never had you felt so small.

 ~~Megatron~~ made you feel small, but having stood there in front of a hostile mech, you felt tiny. Insignificant and unchanging with your impact on the world.

“Eugh,” The mech hissed when he stepped backwards, and you didn’t need to look at his expression to know that he was utterly and completely disgusted. “Aren’t your organic insides supposed to stay inside?”

“… Usually,” You murmured, and you swipe the back of your hand over your mouth before dragging your eyes back up to stare at the unknown mech.

“Then keep them there. You think Lord ~~Megatron~~ wants to see some organic’s disgusting excrement outside of his habsuite?” Jolting a bit, you felt horrifically guilty, then, your hands shaking as you stare at the ground. While the use of “lord” was strange, it wasn’t as important as the disgust ~~Megatron~~ had for organics being confirmed again. All of your conversations together, all of the laughs and deep thoughts passed through your mind, and

you

hated

them.

“Can’t help it. Guess that’s another flaw humanity has; we’re so self-absorbed that we cannot think of others.” It wasn’t exactly self-hatred that fueled your antagonistic thoughts towards humanity, but it wasn’t exactly self-love, either. Getting down onto your knees, under the careful watch of someone you were beginning to conclude was close to ~~Megatron~~ in some way, you scoop up the petals. Making a little pouch out of the edge of your shirt, you pile the petals in; they had been vibrant and full of live, and despite having come from inside of you, the delicate petals were completely dry.

Despite the hatred brewing inside of you, you couldn’t help but think they were beautiful.

“If that’s true, then why spend time with the one mech whose flattened Earth cities and destroyed countless organic lives across the galaxy?” The mech’s voice cut across your consciousness, and as your mouth opened automatically to respond, you found that you couldn’t.

You didn’t have an answer.

So, instead of lying or fumbling about like a fool, you gather yourself up shakily, standing up again before looking down the hallway for a split second.

Why did you spend time with ~~Megatron~~? Curiosity had been the initial reason, you rationalize, but after that…? Curiosity and pity had still been main driving forces, but it wasn’t the entire story, now. Without your notice, someone had gone and edited your story without your acknowledgement; the slight change causing the flowers to spew from your lips. You’d been infected by a virus.

“I am selfish.” Was your quiet response, and you remember that the mech had stared you down the entire time as you walked away.

 

Flashing to the present, the floor was painfully cold against your skin; as you sat there in just your underwear, you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind the discomfort-borderline-pain. To this day, you’re still selfish, even if you can’t bare to acknowledge the reason why.

Stumbling across the dead Rodimus in the coffin and experiencing the ship as it disappeared was another event burned into your mind. You comfort your own selfish terror by rationalizing that anyone would be traumatized by seeing your sun, your bright Rodimus, lain out and grey.

Of course, the higher command hadn’t planned for you to be there, but if you were anything it’s persistent. You had been spending time with Rodimus when he was summoned to the medical bay, and of course you refused to let him go by himself.

Then, the ship started disappearing, and dark grey metal hands had scooped you up gently while your mind hiccupped and flatlined.

 ~~Megatron~~ carried you towards the dock, and you’re quiet and pale as everyone piled into their respective escape pods. You don’t even think about going to a different pod than ~~Megatron~~ ’s, simply clinging to his appendages as he barks out orders alongside Rodimus to usher mechs to safety.

Watching the _Lost Light_ flicker into nothing once you’re all safely off the ship was heartbreaking, and you can only think desperately of the unfinished sketchbook you had left behind.

It doesn’t quite sink in that the one home you’ve had for the better part of a year was gone in a flash; in fact, you’re pretty sure you’re firmly in denial about the entire affair as you rest on ~~Megatron~~ ’s shoulder. It was terrifying to watch everyone disappear, one by one, right up until you felt a wave of nausea wash over you.

It was a terrifying feeling, and as the bots around you scramble to find an answer, you gently tap at ~~Megatron~~ ’s shoulder. You remember losing feeling in your toes, first, and the numbness quickly washed over you completely as ~~Megatron~~ fixed his burning optics on you.

“S…” Swallowing thickly, the lights were beginning to flicker, and you thought you caught a glimpse of _something_ in those optics of his as all color drained from your face. Reaching forward, your fingers grazed over his cheek as panic suddenly gripped your heart. You don’t know what the fuck’s happening, with everyone disappearing like Thanos fucking snapped his fingers or someshit like that, but you do know that ~~Megatron~~ has to –

“Stay safe.”

And, after the lights flickered off and on again, you were no longer perched on the warlord’s shoulder. You were somewhere else, somewhere you couldn’t process or even begin to comprehend; locked between then and now, your consciousness barely hanging on.

Despite it all, the only thing that had been on your mind was how desperately you wished for Megatron to stay safe; for all of your friends to find their way out of this one. You’d already lost Rewind and Drift; even if you were a lost cause, you just wanted Megatron to be okay.

He _had_ to be okay. You couldn’t bare the idea of losing him, and the realization of that lead to another realization you weren’t ready to acknowledge yet.

As you float, your existence in the hands of the creators of the universe, you reflect on how truly selfish you were.

In the same breath as you wished for Megatron to stay safe, you yearned for his demise; for as long as he might stay alive for now, he was destined to face judgement that would be far harsher than disappearing and melting into nothingness like you were. You weren’t so naïve to believe that the Knights of Cybertron would simply let Megatron off scotch free; despite you not knowing who, exactly, the Knights of Cybertron were, you doubt a trial in front of them would differ than any other one.

You had no disillusions; Megatron only went on this quest to buy himself time. He claimed it was repentance, sure, but you weren’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t also so he could possibly cook up a plan of escape. Megatron’s got a long history of being a deceiver; a user in every sense of the word, and even if he were to have a change of heart now, that didn’t mean that he had truly changed in his heart of hearts.

Despite this, you grew flowers for him in bitter silence, your traitor mouth screaming silent pleas to end his pain. He deserved everything coming for him, but in your humanity, you couldn’t help but want to save him.

Floating in endless nothingness, you wept as much as you rejoiced. To lose Megatron now, or to lose him in the future; your heart yearned for neither option, but your mind knew which would be best in the end. To cut the weed before it spread more poison into your system was the smartest course of action.

It felt like no time passed, while planets were died and reborn. Your eyes were closed, so nothing but endless black expanded around you, and you were content with your grief. Your own death hadn’t mattered; it never did, in the end. Somehow, between being cast out into space and now, you were fated to throw away the meaning of your own life for those you care for.

Nothing mattered more than protecting the ones you love; caring for them in face of any danger. Even if floating in an endless vat of nothingness was the fate for your beloved crew, you could come to peace with that eventually; no one would be in pain, and perhaps you all would pass into the afterlife eventually.

Megatron wouldn’t have to go through any pain, nor would Chromedome or Tailgate or your beautiful Sun; they could all be reunited with loved ones in the afterlife, you’re sure.

No one would have to go through any more grief.

…

After you jolted awake in ~~Megatron~~ ’s hands after being forced back into existence, you find yourself feeling nothing but relief as you look at everyone else reappearing one by one.

According to the chatter around you, everyone else had been just as confused as you were; you’re quickly filled in by several bots of what happened while so many of you were Thanos’d out of existence briefly. Quantum engines, two _Lost Lights_ , the Decepticon Justice Division, how the alternate versions of all of you were dead…

 ~~Megatron~~ didn’t say anything as he looked down at you, and you find that you prefer it that way as flowers churned in your gut. Your chest burns, and you clung to his thumb as you offered up repentance to the universe for your sins.

You could never let him go, and you're a coward to ever think you'll ever be that strong.


	5. intervallum

the love you’ve given me

is tainted

by the hooks I’ve put through my brain

you cut the fishing line

.

.

.

Typically, Megatron didn’t care for organics. He’s the grandfather of technoism, after all; it was his ideals and his plans that shifted many of his kind’s views towards negativity when it came to their softer companions in the universe. At first, it was disgust, he’s sure. They leak, they ooze, and they weep seemingly for no reason at all; their insignificance was simply taking up space that his dying race could fill in the universe.

Even though he’d joined the Autobots, his firm beliefs on organics hadn’t changed. Even if he was forced to play nice with whatever organic species he and the _Lost Light_ crew came across while traversing across the galaxy, Megatron did not hold any love for them in his spark. To some degree, they still disgusted him.

Like a human was disgusted by insects and other small pests, Megatron disliked humanity as a whole; they were a strong ally for the Autobots, perhaps, and they had their uses, but they were still lumped under the umbrella of Megatron’s speciesism. Optimus Prime could preach all he’d like about equality, but Megatron had always been a thinker; he couldn’t think his way through an outcome of peace between organics and mechanical beings.

Megatron had razed entire planets, ran several organic species into extinction, and he didn’t have any regrets. It was necessary to rid the universe of the organic beings who plagued the universe. He’d once believed that he had to attack first before his precious Cybetron was attacked, and his ideas were egged on by his higher command. When he’d caused millions of organics to decay with a simple order for destruction, he’d felt like he was a prophet.

He was going to be the salvation of Cybertronians as they knew it, and with more and more blood staining his servos, he’d become deluded from his grandeur of power.

Of course, when he’d realized that he’d become the very monster he’d once fought to destroy, everything had changed. Turning himself in to the Autobots had been, so far, the best decision he’s probably made in over three million years.

Despite it all, Megatron still viewed organics as useless beings. No volume of Autobot propaganda could ever change his mind on this; he was a firm believer of this, even after becoming Co-Captain of the _Lost Light_.

That was before you.

You, small and soft, were the tiniest and quietest member of the _Lost Light_. He’d been unaware of your existence when he’d initially joined the ship, but Ultra Magnus had taken him aside and handed him a datapad on ‘Proper Etiquette When Interacting with Homo Sapiens,’ and his life changed.

Perhaps, that was a bit dramatic, but it certainly had initially made him feel unbalanced and uneasy. Already, he was in a hostile environment where most bots, understandably, disliked him to the point of physical altercations; now, he had to watch where he walked and be wary of running across the Autobot’s tiny mascot.

You were a quiet thing, he’d come to realize. A thinker, a voice inside of him had whispered, but he didn’t put more thought towards your existence than was strictly necessary. The crew defended you and hid you away from him with a fervor he wished they’d put into running this ship, but he understood. It wasn’t like he wanted to interact with you, anyways.

As it was, his first interaction with you came as a surprise to the both of you; you were incredibly lucky that he hadn’t been in motion when you ran into him. Your body was tiny and soft, barely noticeable as it slammed into his stabilizing servo. The thing that had grabbed his attention was the sound of a tiny datapad clacking at it hit the floor.

Of course, seconds later, the sound of your voice just barely squeaking out past your mouth hit his audials, and before he could gather himself enough to reply, you ran from him.

He told himself that he wouldn’t think any more of it when he picked up that tiny datapad of yours, and he didn’t, to his credit. Megatron had bigger fish to fry, as the human saying went.

What he didn’t anticipate was how tempting the datapad would be, sitting in his subspace as it was, to power up and investigate. It would be an invasion of privacy, something juvenile that mechs younger than him would scoff at.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from pursuing your vampire romance novel from cover to back, so to speak. It struck him as incredibly odd, the entire affair; much of the book he didn’t understand, but it allowed him to draw a conclusion that had him feeling distinctly uncomfortable; humanity was able to create art.

To make art wasn’t exclusive to mechanical beings, yes, and while the romance novel might be a novice example of writing from human kind, it did allow for the concept that, perhaps, humans had the ability to create writings on par with his own.

If that were true, then humanity wasn’t so different from Cybertronians at all, and it was a concept that had him feeling particularly sick.

Shaky and filled with so much regret and guilt, he’d returned the datapad to where it belonged without a note. He knew that you’d know who’d brought it back, and he didn’t want to acknowledge any attention that you might have given him. You were terrified of him, plain and simple, and he didn’t want to acknowledge the living proof of his past sins.

To repent and atone for his crimes was the entire reason he was here, and while he might be selfish enough to take this chance for redemption, even Megatron could admit that he was a coward. His beliefs that he’d stuck by for millions of years had been shredded to pieces by his own volition, and he’s still reeling from the aftermath. Perhaps, despite all the wrong he’s done, he’s allowed a moment of weakness to flee from his problems.

If only for a night.

He’d noticed your glances and stares only because he noticed the heightened animosity towards himself; your guardians had formed an even tighter circle around you, although you were seemingly oblivious to the protectiveness.

It was something that made his spark feel off within its casting; your naïve nature when it came to the simplest things. It was the type of nativity that reminded him of children, or, perhaps, his younger self; an unknowing, unwilful ignorance to how the world operated outside of anyone’s control.

When that innocence came to a head, he was sure that the patrons of Swerve’s would attack him, his status of Captain be damned. Ignoring the ring of safety that the Autobots had knitted around you so carefully, you broke free like a faint whisper of a thought as you approached him, climbing up onto his table and being so bold as to ask if you could remain there.

Seeing the puffed-out armor and heated glares being sent his way, Megatron’s self-perseveration instincts kicked in before his sense of logic. When your voice, so soft and whispery and utterly alien, had broken his spell of silence, he knew he had to play nice or risk a mutiny.

“No,” He’d replied, voice neutral and expression unchanging, but that was the exact moment that you’d caught his attention and kept it. Your barely-hidden expression of delight had been intriguing, and from there, you’d become a little spot of intrigue in his otherwise dull lifestyle.

He had much to regret – Hundreds of thousands of lightyears of things to regret and mourn and grieve and _hate_ , but, perhaps, one of Primus’s greatest gifts was the effort of escapism.

From there, you visited him each time you came to Swerve’s, and he found himself sitting in there whenever he knew you’d come. Your schedule was a tight upkeep and very predictable; as he began to pay more attention, he began to learn why.

Many bots spoke to you daily, whether it was to rant or to entertain themselves, but you always made time for each and every one. You ran around, checking in on many of your regular mechs, and you paid special attention to mechs, seemingly at random. Megatron didn’t care too much at first, he will admit; he was intrigued and, perhaps, a little frightened that an organic was choosing to stick by him.

At first, he wondered if he was simply fated to become another part of your rigorous schedule; if you made time to check up on even Ultra Magnus, then surely you weren’t doing it because of some interest in him, or even with encouragement from the Autobots to pry into his psyche.

~~Megatron was more afraid of their resident mnemosurgeon rooting around in his mind while he slept than he’d like to admit. The amount of times he’d woken from a recharge, too jumpstarted and fritzed to fall back asleep was embarrassing.~~

You checked up on as many mechs on board the _Lost Light_ as you could. Megatron came to the conclusion that he was simply accepted in your mind as being one of the crew, and you dedicated some of your time to sitting with him. A nice gesture, but unneeded, in his honest opinion. He didn’t care for organics, not particularly, and he didn’t necessary want the company. In some of his darker moments, when the guilt became so overbearing that his frame creaked with the weight of it all, he believed that he deserved to be left alone and hated.

It would have been a small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things.

Unbidden, he’d noticed that he was one of the mechs you spent the most time with. Hours spent in silence, quietly reading together became as normal as thinking to him, and your quiet breaths were comforting rather than grating.

You had a particularly heavy exhale, he’d learned. Some days, your breathing seemed labored, although you weren’t ill or physically exhausted.

Despite being so small and harmless, you were tenacious and relentless, he’d come to realize. You were the initiator for their strange little companionship, and you’d broken the wall of silence between the two of you into dust. One simple conversation had led to many, and his spark continued to mottle and buckle under his Autobot insignia unchecked.

One of his favorite moments was when you’d climbed up onto the table, as per usual, and walked over to be close to him.

Unafraid, you’d gazed up at him with something other than a toxic sense of loyalty or a fierce loathing – instead, your eyes were calm, your expression serene as you eagerly described to him an Earth show you’d thought he’d enjoy. You didn’t have the show on your datapad, but clever little creature you were, you’d sketched up a couple photos to help illustrate what you were talking about.

Antlers and organs stared back at him, shaded in stark colors, but he found himself more absorbed with you than he’d ever been before.

And, if his servo had moved to rest behind you as you sat, acting as a back rest after you spent the better part of an hour speaking to him, well, neither of you mentioned it out loud.

You, so small and frail, yet so utterly resilient and forgiving; you were someone who hadn’t been affected by his actions, and he never thought he’d meet someone unaffected. Not on an Autobot ship going on a pointless mission to search for their collective meaning after the War ended.

You.

Solid and sturdy against his fingertips, frail like a newborn spark, but much stronger than he could ever hope to be. Megatron never could understand how you were so fearless in his presence, so mindlessly accepting and caring; he’s baffled whenever you worry if he doesn’t refuel, or if he’s late to your daily meet-ups.

Worry about _him_ , whose one of the main reasons why your planet was so against Cybertronian and alien life. Him, whose killed thousands of organics without ever thinking twice, who’d once aimed to destroy all organic life from the universe.

“Psychology’s always been something I’ve wanted to study,” you told him, nestled against his servo, hours after you finished telling him about that fictional television show. He’d stared down at you curiously, and you didn’t give him a chance to continue before you pressed on with your words. Megatron liked that about you; when passionate, nothing could get in your way. It was a strong quality for anyone to have, but he knew you weren’t headstrong or stubborn like most mechs ended up. No, your passion was like water; it flowed in a strong, unrelenting current, but still weaved and folded around the landscape as needed.

“I wanted to help kids, actually. An art therapy studio was what I always dreamed of having, where children who struggled could come in and make something beautiful to help with what they felt inside.” You had paused, there, and your hand had rested against his middle finger as you pushed yourself into a more upright sitting position. He didn’t dare let his servo so much as twitch, and it felt like someone was rooting their servo around in his insides.

It was invasive and perfect and _he ignored it_ , because **nothing** was more important than opening his mouth and responding to you.

“You’re saying you aren’t already Rung’s impromptu stand-in?” He remembers that you had laughed, and a look had crossed your face too fast for him to properly identify, but it made his frame feel like it was melting all the same. The way humans emote was vastly different than Cybertronians; no EMP fields, no flared plating, no biolights blinking; everything about how you expressed yourself was so utterly different that it was hard to adjust sometimes.

Megatron wouldn’t have it any other way.

“A-Actually, about that, I was thinking…” You appeared to puff out slightly, and Megatron gave you time to gather your thoughts as he took a second to glance up and around Swerve’s. It was a mindless action, and he noted internally that many mechs had already left the bar. The only mech who remained behind was Ratchet, and he had his back to them. Megatron knew he was more focused on nursing that drink than he was eavesdropping, so he turned his full attention back down to you.

“Do you think that would help some of you? I—I know I was never credentialed on Earth, but I do have an art degree, and I was thinking about maybe asking Rung if he would oversee it, and—And the benefits would be really good for everyone! So many of you are pent up and lonely, and it’s heartbreaking. I know it’s hard for some mechs to express how they feel after your war, and some mechs don’t know who they are outside of the battlefield, and I thought it would be, uhm, it would…” Normally, people who rambled on and refused to get to the point were irritating, or trying to pull the wool over Megatron’s optics. He found it more tolerable when you did it, but most things you did were tolerable to him.

“I think it holds merit. When are you going to talk to Rung about it?” Pausing, you looked at him and seemed lost. It wasn’t a look he wasn’t used to; he often noticed you staring up at him with an expression so lost and forlorn that it made him uncomfortable. Megatron’s not sure what he’s done to earn such a look, and he’s done his best to think of it from every angle he can.

However, soon enough, the lost look fades as a smile spread across your face, and Megatron felt at peace in his old frame. As space passed them by, as you eagerly continued to tell him of all your plans and hopes and dreams, Megatron concluded that whatever coffin awaited him, he would lay in it.

That peace lasted until you disappeared in his hands, and the rose-colored optics he’d been peering out of suddenly cleared to reveal the starkness of their reality.

You, just like everything else in this universe, were fleeting.

All organics were fated to decay far before any mechanical being. He’d lived thousands of your lifetimes, and even then, he was fated to atone for his sins.

When he took charge of the ship full of leftover mechs, after Nightbeat had worked out why everyone had disappeared, Megatron had his helm on straight again. For months, you’d been a moment of peace in his waste of a lifetime. A reminder of what could have been, if he hadn’t become what he sought to destroy.

Going through the second version of the _Lost Light_ was another reminder of his failures, and, perhaps, that’s another reason why he was so willing to be locked up. To walk through a funhouse nightmare of what his direct actions had groomed into existence was…

Megatron didn’t have the words to describe it, and he welcomed the distraction Ravage had served. It wasn’t a surprise to find that he’d been watched; after all, actions have consequences, and Megatron’s were only just beginning to catch up with him.

Resting, was he?

When he eventually had to go with the newly found Rewind to shut off the quantum engines, Megatron could only hope that you would come back to him. Wherever you were – wherever any of you had gone – Megatron wanted it all to come back.

If he was allowed to be selfish one last time, that would be his final request.

Never has he believed in a higher power, Primus or otherwise, but when you appeared safe and sound in the Rod Pod, looking up at him with barely concealed relief and happiness, Megatron knew that he could never let the rosey haze fall over him again.

It was foolish of him to ever think he deserved you, even as he cradled you like something precious in his servos, with all of his crimes stacked against him. Even if your life would be snuffed before his trial came to pass, the inevitability of his eventual separation from you loomed over him like a dark cloud.

Before anything could happen, Megatron turned his attention back towards what he really should be focused on; atoning for his sins outside of making amends with one small organic from Earth.

It was likely one of the most selfish and selfless things he’s done in a long time. Even so, Megatron allowed himself a moment of weakness as he held your body close, pressed against the Autobot insignia over his spark as he tried his best to protect you from the world that so desperately tried to take you away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCE9iMebyK4&list=PLtPDhqwQ8_GqeJWInywI5rqbFkNDWwMH-
> 
> hee hee i made a playlist for these two. also! change of tone for this chapter, i wanted to highlight how megatron's been feeling. this is a fic about him, so i wanted to have more of him in this, lmao
> 
> i hope yall don't mind the tone change?? i wanted to alter it slightly to make it more like how megatron 'sounds' to me, if that makes sense. :D this is also a lot shorter because finals week ; w ; i also wanted this to be a bit shorter as an interlude? Big Things are Coming folks...

**Author's Note:**

> i swear on my life i'm fine i just cried a lot to a megatron amv and needed a way to express my love for this man also ha HA STILL NO BETA READER because i'm impatient and wanted to post this NOW.....................


End file.
